A True Empath Story

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I was at the dentist’s office awaiting my final fitting for my permanent dentures. I could’ve gotten them back in November but I was quite depressed then due to the upcoming holidays, swallowed up by my grief and having a hard time doing the stuff that I needed to do.

Anyway, there was a woman who came in and she smiled brightly at the entire waiting room, wishing everyone a Happy New Year.

We all mumbled it back to her, including me. I was annoyed that I’d been waiting for an entire 30 minutes already and distracted by my phone.

She started talking to a man that was sitting next to her and I couldn’t help but notice her voice choking up as she told him that her mother had passed away on January 2nd.

“I can’t believe she’s gone. I just lay in bed at night, crying. Even though we argued often, she was the only person who was always there for me.”

It only took me a second or two before I stood up and walked over to her.

“I lost my mother last May.”

“You did?”

“Yes. May I give you a hug?”

She got up and practically threw herself into my arms. And there we were, two strangers, hugging in a waiting room. It lasted about a minute, while I gently rocked her back and forth as she sobbed.

I said a bunch of soothing things to her but mostly what I remember saying is that I wish I could tell her that it would get easier but I couldn’t.

“But she’s always with you. Trust me, she is.”

I put my hand on my heart to show her where.

She nodded, her tear-stained face beaming at me with gratitude and a beautiful, sad smile.

“Thank you. Thank you so much.”

And I felt GOOD. I felt like I was honoring my true calling in life, comforting bereft people and showing empathy to those souls that are struggling.

Because life is hard.

She was gone by the time I was finished with my appointment. We never exchanged names and I’m doubtful that I’ll ever see her again.

But knowing that I made some sort of a difference in this woman’s life will stay with me forever.


I had to change the second part of this post for personal reasons (I just got blasted from the “lost friend” for only caring about myself and being a selfish, self-absorbed bitch) so don’t pay attention to the first few comments down there. Since I’m trying to reduce the amount of stress in my life these days, it’s just easier for me to delete it.

So now it’s just a post about a really good experience that I had with a stranger in my dentist’s waiting room.

I really think that I need to be more careful about who I allow into my life from now on.

Go Away, Albatros

Well, guys, it’s official. My condo will be on the market starting on January 11th. The realtor that I chose came over yesterday morning and he was really great. He spent almost 90 minutes with me. He answered all of my questions, he was well-organized and extremely professional.

I decided to go for it without any hesitation, which is an ultra-rare thing for me to do. I mean, I usually question every little damn thing that flutters through my mind, which is so annoying. I’m constantly ticking my own self off. Oy.

But this decision felt right.

After he left, I felt like an albatross had been lifted from my shoulders.

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Well, I didn’t like being on your fucking shoulders anyway.

Now my daughter and I have some major work ahead of us. I ordered a lightweight vacuum on Amazon which should be delivered today so I can do the floors with more ease since my regular vacuum is like pushing a boulder around. Keeping my house as clean as a whistle isn’t an easy task whilst suffering from fibromyalgia, so this purchase was rather necessary.

We need to tidy up and declutter for the open houses that’ll be planned for every Saturday morning between 10 am and 12 pm. I like this plan because I can just put my dogs in the car and get the hell out of the house for two hours easily enough.

While the condo begins its journey to a new owner, I’ll begin to start looking for a new place to live. The realtor, I must say, seems to know his stuff. He said that not even taking the mental health and emotional issues into consideration, the layout of the condo just doesn’t work for me anymore.

He nailed the pin on the donkey or whatever that saying is.

I have 3 “must-haves” for my next abode.

  1. No Stairs.
  2. Preferably a fenced-in backyard (or how about even just a backyard?) where my dogs can have some freedom and maybe some fucking exercise.
  3. No Condos!

I don’t think it’s too much to ask for.


I had an emotional chat about putting the condo up for sale with my mom yesterday and although I realize that she’s deceased (I haven’t lost my crackers yet, I swear), I feel as though she was listening.

From what I’ve read on the afterlife, the spirits of our dearly departed no longer hold grudges or experience anger once they’ve passed away. Whatever fears that plagued my sweet mama are now replaced with nothing but love. I do believe this with all of my heart. I keep trying to picture her up in heaven rooting for me no matter what I do in my life.

I asked her to stay close by, to help guide me in the right direction.

I’m thankful for finally feeling really good about something for a change. It’s been far too long since that’s happened and it’s about fucking time.

A Tad Off-Key

Freedom is an important thing to have, wouldn’t you agree?

It starts when we’re little. We realize that we can crawl, that we have the ability to move from one place to the next. We start off slow and awkward, but soon enough we’re on a roll and our parents get all excited.

Until we start to walk. Then we end up taking all of the pots, pans and whatnot out of the cupboards.

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No more freedom for you, you drooling little turd.

The reason I bring this topic up isn’t just for shits and giggles. Among the many things that I’m finding myself having difficulty with recently is how to deal with having full freedom.

Freedom from my ex-husband but also from my mom’s unintentional hovering. It was something I don’t believe that she even realized she was doing.

It’s so hard for me to discuss how controlling she was when it came to the choices and decisions that I made because it makes me feel like I’m disrespecting her memory. I know that she never intended on doing me any sort of harm or damage. I feel a sense of prickly shame and a guilty conscience whenever I think to speak or write about it.

Let’s just say that I’ll have plenty to talk about in therapy and leave it at that.

I have this intense grief to carry around with me, trying to make sense of a world without my mother in it, who was always my refuge and main support system.

I also have this newfound freedom of living my life without her input for the first time. It’s both exciting and rather terrifying. To be perfectly honest, I’m so afraid that I’m gonna fuck it all up and make all the wrong choices…but then again, I suppose that’s what life is mostly all about.

I like to imagine that my mother would want me to just be as happy as possible. (Even if she’s up in heaven disagreeing with me and shaking her head.)

I know that it’s going to take me a while to feel comfortable following my own gut instincts or as my new therapist calls it “finding my voice.”

My tone and pitch might be a tad off-key but hey, at least it’s mine.